Blood to Blood
by Arden Riddle
Summary: When Hermione is assigned to tutor Draco, she learns things she doesn't expect - things she doesn't want to know. DHr
1. 1 An Offer She Couldn't Refuse

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Disclaimer: Use your imagination.

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"Welcome back, welcome back!" Professor Dumbledore said buoyantly. "It is late, and I shall not keep you long. Mr. Filch would like me to remind all of you that wandering the grounds after curfew is forbidden." His eyes flashed toward Harry. "And this year, the curfew is ten o'clock. Everybody is expected to be _in their common rooms _by that time. There will be Hogesmeade trips every weekend this year for third years and up. That is all. Now off to bed! Lessons tomorrow!" 

"Sixth-year prefects, over here!" yelled a tall Ravenclaw girl. Hermione shuffled her way to the front of the line, and in the process bumped into someone rather hard.

"WATCH IT, YOU -- "

"Malfoy," Hermione muttered dispassionately.

Draco hadn't grown much, and his hair was the same as it had always been: white-blond and slicked back. The combination of his widow's peak, his high-collared black cloak, and his deathly pale skin made him resemble a vampire. His face was contorted into its infamous scowl.

"Mudblood," he said, as a form of greeting.

Hermione tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. "You're looking especially ferrety today."

"And you're looking perfectly revolting," he said quietly.

Hermione pursed her lips. She was not going to start something in the middle of a crowd of Prefects.

"What's the matter, Granger?" he taunted. "You afraid 'cause your bodyguards aren't around?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned away. Malfoy smirked triumphantly as they marched out of the Great Hall.

* * *

The Prefect's lounge was adorned in the same fashion as the library. In fact, it looked like a miniature of the library. Bookshelves lined all but one wall, which was covered by old paintings and sketches of old Headmasters and professors. Hermione noticed a small painting of a younger Dumbledore, who was humming 'O Little Town of Bethlehem'. 

"This is where meetings will be held," said the seventh-year Ravenclaw. "The password is _Canem__ Video_. Remember it. If you have any more questions ask me… You may go."

As everyone was exiting, Hermione lost her hold on her bag. Books and papers lay scattered across the stone floor like the leaves of autumn. 'Why did I bring this with me?' she asked herself as she scrambled to pick everything up. After she had crammed all of her things in her bag, she stood up and broke into a run, feeling uncomfortable all alone in the dark corridor.

As she neared the exit to the dungeon area, she heard footsteps echo through the stone corridor.

'If it's Snape, I'll get detention for sure,' she thought. The closest door was the Prefect Boys Bathroom. She knew the password and prayed to God that nobody was in there. When she hurried in, it was empty. She struggled to quiet her panting as the footsteps grew louder.

The person stopped right outside the prefects' bathroom. Hermione jumped into a stall as the door opened and somebody came in. The torches sprung to life, and Hermione stood on the toilet to keep out of view.

"I should have killed him," a voice hissed. She heard the person pacing rapidly back and forth in front of the sinks. "I had the bloody chance!" Now Hermione was interested. She peeked through the crack in the door. She saw a shape -- a shadow. No… A figure. The outline of a tall, lean young man.

"I will not _serve_ anyone," said the young man, glaring at his own image in the mirror. "I AM NOT MY FATHER." His last words echoed in the large, cave-like room. Something caught Hermione's eye -- something that glittered.

'What is that?' she thought. But then the boy brought it to its own skin and dragged it down, hissing through his teeth. Something dripped into the sink.

Blood.

Terror raced through Hermione's mind –– this boy was trying to _kill_ himself. She jumped out from her hiding spot.

"Stop!" she yelled. When she saw his face, she froze.

The boy smirked at her in the mirror. "Great." He turned around. Gray eyes glittered in the torchlight.

"_Malfoy?"_

"You know this is a _boys'_ bathroom?" Draco said, clasping his hands behind his back. Hermione sensed worry in his glare. "I should take points away… Or shall I just tell Professor Snape –"

"Shut up!" said Hermione. She grabbed Draco by his arm and drew back his sleeve. Blood drizzled down her hand, and she recoiled in fear and disgust. There were scars all down his arm, many of them new. Blood from the open gash soaked his sleeve. "Malfoy, are you trying to _kill _yourself?" She retrieved her wand, and was about to mutter a healing spell when Malfoy pushed her away. She seized his arm again.

"Leave me alone, Mudblood," Draco yelled in reply, a note of fear in his voice. He twisted out of her grip and stumbled backward. He quickly wiped the fresh blood on his robes.

"Malfoy," Hermione said, her voice eerily quiet. "You need to tell someone -- "

"It was an accident," Draco said, turning pink in the face. "Leave me alone."

"Malfoy, if there's a problem - "

"NO!" he said, his eyes burning. Hermione's voice left her completely. She couldn't tell if he was going to cry or just explode. "I'M NOT TELLING ANYONE!" His nostrils flared. "I'll _kill_ you if you tell."

Hermione bit her lip and looked at the floor. After a moment, she opened her mouth to speak. Draco fumed. "LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Hermione hesitantly turned away, her eyebrows furrowed in worry and shame as she left Draco standing alone.

* * *

Hermione stared at the floor as she walked. 

'I can't believe he would do this to himself,' Hermione thought. 'Not even Malfoy deserves death. Not like this, anyway.'

She was so oblivious to everything around her that she ran into Neville, causing him to drop all his books and spill the contents of his bag. "Oh, sorry," she muttered offhandedly.

She walked into Potions Class, her eyes glazed. "How fortunate are we that you could grace us with your presence, Miss Granger," said Professor Snape. Hermione dropped into her seat beside Harry, behind Draco and Pansy.

Hermione shook herself mentally and looked up at Professor Snape. "Yeah, fortunate," she said quickly. People around her sniggered. Professor Snape took five points from Gryffindor for her tardiness and started his lecture. Hermione rested her elbows on the table and stared at the back of Draco's head for the whole of the lesson.

* * *

"Miss Granger!" 

Hermione, who had just walked out of the dungeons (Harry had only lost ten points for Gryffindor today in Potions - Neville: minus fifteen), looked around. She spotted Professor McGonagall, who was walking briskly toward her.

"Yes, Professor?"

"Er," Professor McGonagall muttered, "we had better step inside my office."

They made their way to the first floor. Hermione sat down in the chair before Professor McGonagall's desk. She noticed that it was the same as when she had come in to get her Time Turner in her third year, except for a strange gold contraption sitting on the corner of her desk. It was engraved with the words: _To Minerva, From Albus; May you never get lost in the Muggle world again._

Professor McGonagall sat down behind the desk and clasped her hands together gravely.

"As you know," she began, "you are my top student – the top student in your year." Hermione went a bit red and nodded. "Well, there is a boy here who is in the top three in most of his classes – all except for Transfiguration and Charms, both of which he is failing - "

"And you would like me to tutor him," Hermione said, smiling. Professor McGonagall nodded. Hermione was already excited – she loved teaching people. "Who?"

"Mr. Malfoy," Professor McGonagall said wearily. Hermione opened her mouth to decline, but Professor McGonagall seemed to have foreseen this. Quickly, she added, "In return for tutoring, you shall receive your own dormitory and common room, and you may choose four or five friends to share that common room with you… Potter, perhaps? Weasley?" Hermione raised an eyebrow. "…And Gryffindor shall receive five points per meeting."

Hermione smiled. "Ten points and you've got a deal."

For a moment, Professor McGonagall's lips became a very thin line. She sighed. "Deal."

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A/N: Obviously, I'm editing and reposting this fanfiction. As always, **REVIEW** or I'll have Crabbe sit on you. Happy New Year! 


	2. 2 Reaching Out

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**xxxx** **Reaching Out xxxx**

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A/N: New version of chapter 2. Enjoy!

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"So you're _actually_ going to do it?" Ginny asked at dinner that day.

"I already agreed," Hermione said, piling potatoes onto her plate. "I want to help him. Perhaps he isn't all that bad." She refrained from telling them about the dormitory, in case she regained her sanity during the first tutoring session and blew the whole thing off.

"Ooh, yes," said Ron, his mouth full of food, "Malfoy - the boy who just needs a hug. Aww, how precious." Hermione elbowed him -- hard. "Hey! That hurt!"

"If he gives you any trouble, you just tell us," said Harry, brushing his shaggy black hair out of his eyes. "We'll deal with him."

Hermione laughed.

"Thanks, but I'll be fine," Hermione said. "He's just a bully. Know how many bullies I put up with when I was younger?" Harry gave her a pointed look. "I'll be fine, I promise."

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Hermione walked into the Gryffindor Common Room that Sunday. She spotted Ron and Harry sitting on the floor near the fireplace, highly absorbed in a game of chess. Well, Ron was, anyway. Harry seemed to be drifting off into space, staring at the chess board. He spotted Hermione and smiled as a way of beckoning her over.

"Your turn Harry," Ron muttered, completely absorbed in his game.

'Save me' Harry mouthed as he randomly picked up a pawn and moved it forward, only for it to be taken by Ron's bishop.

While Harry looked hurriedly around the board for a piece to move, Ron broke his concentration and looked up at her.

"Up for a game?" he asked. "It's only gonna take another move or two to beat Harry." Harry and Ron both grinned up at her. But Hermione shook her head.

"I have patrol tonight," Hermione said to him. "Fourth floor corridor. Bleh. I'll be back at midnight."

"Just a little while," Ron pleaded. "Besides, I know how bad you are at chess. It'll only take a few minutes - " Hermione glowered. Ron put on a pout.

"You're not cute enough to work that look," Hermione said wryly. Ron stuck out his tongue, and Hermione stuck hers out as a reply.

"Just go, Granger," Harry said with a crooked smile. "We'll be here when we get back. Anyway, I've conveniently forgotten to do my Divination homework. So, thou honorable Ronald, how dost thou think I die this month…eth?" Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Escape while you can, Hermione," Ron said playfully. "Harry's gone Shakespearean again." Hermione walked down the seventh floor corridor and made her way down onto the fourth floor.

She stood in the fourth floor corridor for twenty minutes, bored out of her mind, when something crashed loudly behind her - the clang of metal on stone. Hermione spun around. A suit of armor had been knocked over, yet there was nobody in sight. Hermione walked cautiously toward it.

"PEEVES!" she yelled. There was no reply, and she had a feeling it wasn't him; after all, Peeves would have popped up and stuck his tongue out at her, right?

"Mobiliarbus," she muttered, and a dim blue light flowed out of her wand to coil around the arms and legs of the suit of armor and set it back on its feet.

Hermione walked around the corner ("Thank you, miss," said the suit of armor) and found a boy laying on the floor.

There was a dark-colored puddle around him – blood.

'Not again' she thought. She rolled the flaxen-haired boy onto his back. She grabbed his arm and closed the wounds with a spell. She pointed the tip of the wand at his chest.

"Enervate."

Draco's eyes fluttered open. He quickly staggered to his feet. His teeth were barred and clenched in anger.

"Again?" he said. "Not again." His eyes darted past her, at something on the ground. Hermione spun around to see what it was. Glittering in the pool of blood, like gold in a river, lay Draco's knife. He dove for it, but Hermione was quicker.

Knife in hand, she turned to face her fallen rival. She was drenched in blood. Draco knocked her to the floor and tried to grab the knife from her outstretched hand. She rolled out from under him and scrambled to her feet. He stood up.

"No, Malfoy!"

Draco moved closer to her, his face livid with fury. Hermione could hear her heart pounding in her throat. She put the knife in her pocket

"Give me my knife, Granger!"

"No," Hermione said. She had had this confrontation perfectly mapped out in her head. "Not even _you _should do this to yourself!"

"Oh, like _you _care. I can just get another one – "

"I _do _care!"

Draco frowned. "You don't understand what I'm – "

"_You can't kill yourself_!"

"I'M NOT TRYING TO KILL MYSELF, GRANGER!"

Hermione fell silent. Draco smirked and shook his head.

"I'm not your _project_, Granger," he said quietly. Hermione bit her lip. "You don't get it. It doesn't matter how bloody smart you are – you won't _understand_. Don't try to understand this… But I'm _not_ trying to kill myself. I'd never _kill _myself -- it's too – "

Hermione frowned. "Then what are you _doing_?"

"I'm _not_ killing myself. And not a word of this to ANYONE. I'd feel no remorse in killing a Mudblood – especially one that –"

Hermione wasn't going to listen to any of _this_. "As long as you're here," she said, "I assume Professor McGonagall told you I'm tutoring you."

Draco suddenly stood up straight. He looked _highly_ insulted. "_What?_"

"Our first session is tomorrow," said Hermione, her hands on her hips. "I sent you an owl about it just a while ago."

"This better not be a –­ "

"You think I _volunteered_?" asked Hermione. "Nobody really gave me a choice." She was blatantly lying, but it was _necessary_.

Draco narrowed his eyes and gave her a pointed glare. "So there's not much we can do about it, is there?" He sighed. "I suppose I'll see you tomorrow, then." He turned and began to walk away, but stopped before he reached the door. Without turning, he spoke just loud enough for her to hear: "Not a word, Granger."

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"On with the lesson then," said McGonagall. "We will be learning how to transfigure light things into heavy things. We will start out by transfiguring a feather into an oil lamp." After the lesson was finished (Draco had managed to turn the feather into a very small, fuzzy lampshade) Professor McGonagall called Draco and Hermione aside.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy," she began, "I would very much appreciate if you two started your sessions as soon as possible. There should be at least three per school week. Today after school, you two shall meet here for a study session. Four o'clock sharp. You know where everything is, Miss Granger." Hermione nodded. "Each one should be _at least_ one hour long. Preferably two. You decide when he can leave. There is a charm on this door so that my students cannot leave until I let them. This will work for you, Miss Granger, so that you decide when Mr. Malfoy can leave and so that he cannot leave up until that time. Do you understand?" They both nodded. Professor McGonagall smiled. "Off you go now. I wouldn't want you two to be late for your next class." And they both rushed out the door to Charms.

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Hermione sat at a desk in the Transfiguration room at 3:59 PM. She watched the second hand on the clock as it began to approach 4:00. Five. four. three. two.

"I'm here!" Draco said as the clock struck four. Hermione gave a start and turned around to face him.

"Very prompt, aren't you?" she asked. Draco nodded. "Well, we'll start with Transfiguration: turning a feather into a non-furry lamp."

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Lessons went by with ease. Hermione found that she actually liked teaching Draco. He was like a smart problem-child with slightly evil tendencies. She'd already made so much progress! When she was in teacher-mode, they could talk about things that Harry and Ron wouldn't understand or care about. For example, their fourth lesson the following Friday:

"You've read _Hogwarts: A History_?"

Draco nodded and shrugged. He was sitting in a chair across from Hermione in order to face her.

"Yeah, so?" he said. "I have it with me. I got the edition that updates itself. It's got everything about the Chamber of Secrets in here, now… Even mentions St. Potty…"

Hermione looked at him in awe. Draco smiled as he watched her flip through the pages with a look on her face that suggested she'd been told Christmas was coming five times this year. After her awe had subsided (for the most part), she gave _Hogwarts: A History_ back to Draco and rested her elbow on the desk in between the two students.

"So, Draco, have you finished your poem, yet?" she asked.

"Yes," Draco said, rather rigidly.

"Well, let's hear it," Hermione said. Draco stared blankly at her.

After a moment of quite tense silence, he shook his head. "No."

Hermione blushed, not knowing why. She tried not to feel insulted.

"Well," she said, flustered, "let's move on, shall we? Pick up your wand, Draco, and we'll try the spell one more time. Then you can leave."

Draco looked up at her. "Granger?"

"Hmm?"

The corner of his mouth shuddered. "Don't call me Draco."

_That's it. I give up._

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Malfoy. Just pick up your bloody wand."

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A/N: **REVIEW** or I'll put firecrabs down your pants. 


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